Spring Break

It's been a really long spring.

Is memory really that short or is there always so much rain and cold weather in May? The hill extravaganza that the Troublemakers were going to do 2 weeks ago was washed away. Last week The FeMan rode with The Men of Cascade Bicycle Club and actually had a good time: the weather held off, the pace was acceptable to the group, and the route was mostly pleasant.

And, the ferry ride back from Vashon Island was outstanding! The passenger only ferry will take bikes and does it cook! We must have been going 40 mph. What a great way to avoid riding over West Seattle.

Now that The FeMan was a full-fledged member of the Troublemakers, he wanted to celebrate with some hammering.

Another Saturday, another drippy early morning.

What to wear? Will it pour and make tights desirable? How about booties? How much can that fanny pack hold? (The air spoiler one.) His mind all awhirl, The FeMan packed his gear and headed across the lake to the appointed meeting place.

Arriving at exactly the appointed time he noted that there was a good-sized crew: No-shiftum, The Rocket, No Handlebars Tape, Cannonball Rick, and a Troublemaker Pretender (to be known as Big Steve).

But no Fast Eddie.

The FeMan sorted out his needs, packed, pumped, dressed.

Then Fast Eddie rolled in. "I'm tired", he said. Not to be outdone, The FeMan let it be known that he had worked to midnight most every night the past week and he, too, was tired. (He didn't let on that he'd had a full 6 hours' sleep the previous night and felt pretty frisky.)

Frisky was to be the operative word on that day.

Lots of conversation this morning, lots of chatter. Where to go? Without consensus the group rolled out, knowing that a plan would evolve as the ride progressed. Everyone knew the drill except Big Steve: head out toward Fall City, then up Ames Lake Road to the Snoqualmie Valley.

As the group headed out toward Fall City, The FeMan finally got to pull. With joy coursing through his veins, he rolled on toward Ames Lake Road. As he looked back to signal and make the left turn, he looked back and saw he was off the front a 100 meters or so.

Great! A break from the pack before being swallowed up.

Trying to keep it in the big ring, The FeMan spun up the hill. At the crest he was still ahead! He stopped to remove some clothing as the pack shot by.

After stowing his clothes, he set out in pursuit, catching the group as they moved like a single organic being down the hill. He joined up and reveled in the sensuousness of it all: the clicking derailleurs, the thrumming tires, the bicycles moving together but apart all at the same time. Total joy!

Through the roundabout, then north in the valley. Working to the front to take his turn, The FeMan laid out on his aero bars and tried to keep it 20-22 mph on the flats, slower uphill, but trying to stay at 20, let it rip downhill. His breathing was a slow, steady rhythm as the peleton moved up toward the bridge to Monroe.

Into Monroe, a quick stop for taking and leaving water, then off again up Chain Lakes Road.

Then an ominous moment. At the stop light, a local resident said to No-shiftum "I hope you get run over".

To which No-shiftum replied "Well, thank you too!". Not a good sign. What is it about country living that turns normal humans to depraved beasts?

The Chain Lake Road hills. Always a good time for attacks. But everyone was holding back. Then The Rocket made a move. Several answered, including The FeMan. The jockeying continued up the series of rises until an attack by a Rottweiller scattered the Troublemakers.

The FeMan was luckily near the front and the Rottweiller was distracted by those behind and he as able to progress out of harm's way. As the group settled down again, The FeMan began to hear a HONK! .... HONK! ... HONK! ... from the rear.Glancing back, he saw a rider in the middle of the lane, standing, with a truck right on his tail with HONK! .... HONK! ... HONK! ...

"Go on by" thought The FeMan. But, no: HONK! .... HONK! ... HONK! ..

As The FeMan crested the hill, he heard distressed voices from the rear. Turning around and coasting back down the hill, he saw the truck stopped and surrounded by cyclists. Strong language was being exchanged. "Oh, shit, he hit someone," thought The FeMan.

Not that serious, but the truck's driver had forced No Handlebars Tape into the ditch! After additional verbal exchanges, the idiot drove away.

Ahh, country living at its finest.

The Troublemakers headed out again, with the adrenaline flowing hard. As the group climbed and turned and dropped, The FeMan began to take long pulls. He pushed and was pushed. Joy and vitality coursed through his veins as the speed crept up, sometimes to 30 mph! Spin, shift, stand, shift, spin. The motions just flowed together.

Just outside Granite Falls Cannonball Rick took the lead and led the pack into town.

That grocery store was mighty welcome with its stocks of sugar and liquid. No-shiftum continued his diet of pure chemicals while the rest of the crew ate junk. No tomato juice today, so The FeMan had to settle for Allsport with his Snickers bar.

For a change, the group decided to return via Lake Rosseiger. Good decision. Some interesting hills, great road, outstanding descent into valley north of Monroe. The FeMan managed to time it just right and got the lead for the big ride down to the valley and the pull across. Cannonball pulled a sly one and climbed over a shortcut and got the jump on the group.

At the stop in Monroe, The Rocket pointed out that The FeMan's back tire was flat. The group immediately called out, as if in one voice, "Let's go!" as they grabbed their bikes. They were kind enough to wait at the water hole for The FeMan to catch up.

Now it was just the home stretch. The FeMan was beginning to hurt. No more fighting for the front, just try to hang on. He got his chance to pull to Ames Lake Road, but the smoothness was gone. His breath was ragged, his power decreased. And the carnivores knew it.

On the climb up Ames Lake Road to Union Hill, there were several challenges, then Cannonball, Fast Eddie, and No Handlebars Tape broke away. The FeMan tried to hang, but they continued to move away. He could see them out of the saddle, pushing each other up the hill.

Then they were gone.

Try as he might, they were not seen again until Marymoor.

What a day it was! Pure joy, lots of eagerness, good riding. How much more blessed can one be?

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